Drift

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It started as a simple morning prayer. The Lord and I, He listening, me chatting. His presence washed over me like clouds rolling in off the shore. My heart overflowed with gratitude for His gentle guidance, His steadfast love, and that He had called me and considered me trustworthy to serve Him. The scripture 1 Timothy 1:12 rang loudly. I shared with the Lord, “You’ve been so, so good to me, Lord, and I love you. Help me walk more closely with you and see you more clearly in each moment of the day. I want to drift less.”

Drift less, percolated—I wanted to drift less—less from God’s presence and from the steady rhythm of prayer. But in the quiet, I began to wonder: what if drifting wasn’t always a bad thing? What if, like driftwood, God is inviting me to drift with Him—carried not by the world but by the currents of His Spirit?

Driftwood

It starts its life in some place other than the ocean. It is likely a forest, a coastal sanctuary, or even an inland farm far from the waters. Through no planning of its own, the once vibrant tree, deeply rooted in the ground, is knocked down or splintered by an unsuspecting storm, and it begins the journey to the waters. 

Winds, rains, tributaries, and rivers have their say, and with time, the wood, jagged and beaten, finds itself bobbing in salty waters, far from its native home. Whereas before, the tree or branch provided shade and a sanctuary for birds, it now gives way to the winds, listing in one direction or another like a well-sailed boat cutting through the waters. Driftwood—its principal function is to float. It appears to move without tension or struggle; swimmingly, it takes its space in an endless ocean, peacefully journeying for years.

Effortlessly, it bobs along, carried by the waves and currents to unknown destinations. It is taken wherever the sea deems. The driftwood is not charting a course to get from one place to another. It is in a constant state of surrender, the waves leading it wherever needed, a sense of peace and calm instilled.

One might look at a piece of driftwood, faded by sunlight and salt, and see something lost, floating directionless, perhaps even useless. Or one might see a metaphor for an invitation on how to live—a life of surrender, floating upon the waters of peace led by the current of the Holy Spirit.

Life can leave us uprooted, windburned, and parched. With years of life etched into our memories, we too may feel weathered or find ourselves off-shore—just like driftwood. Regardless of where we have drifted, we are never alone. God does not leave His creation unattended. In the very beginning, the Spirit of God hovered over the waters to be oh so near to His creation, and that includes us.

Genesis 1:2 “Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.”

Not lost, but led

And so I pray again, “Help me drift with You, Lord—not lost, but led. Not charting my course, but surrendered to Your Spirit. Let me float in Your presence like driftwood over the waters, even when the shorelines of my life have shifted.”

Driftwood may look like it’s lost its way, but perhaps it’s right where it’s meant to be—yielded and carried. In the same way, maybe our journey isn’t about having all the answers or directing the course. Perhaps it’s about learning to surrender and to trust the One who still hovers over the waters, guiding, sustaining, and never letting us float too far from His presence and love.

Reflection

• Where in my life do I feel untethered or adrift—and how might God be inviting me to trust Him there?

• When have I experienced God gently carrying me, even when I didn’t know the direction I was going?